


Cold Outside

by Natasha_Salvador



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, First Kiss, For Marylou, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, One Shot, Pining, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, very mutual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Salvador/pseuds/Natasha_Salvador
Summary: Marylou,  this is the first fanfic I've written aal by myself, actually finished and actually published. I wanted to give it to you as a birthday present, and thank you for telling me to try. I wish one day I will be able to give you the handwritted version





	

It was cold outside. And because Sherlock had a bit of trouble with his last case (they are just windows, John, and I'm fine. You should see the other guy) now it was also cold inside. The only place that was intact was Sherlock's bedroom, but they weren't talking about that.  
Sherlock was busying himself with an experiment, trying hard not to glance at John, and trying even harder not to glance at the secret emergency stash he hid behind the microwave. John, staring at the telly, was gleefully unaware of the struggle Sherlock had with himself, as usual.   
For the past month John had been warmer with him, and Sherlock couldn't figure out why. He had been more forgiving of the body parts in the fridge, he would make tea every time Sherlock was in his mind palace, and he had stayed every night to have dinner. If Sherlock was correct, the last time John flirted with someone else was three weeks ago, wich was a record for "Three Continents" Watson.  
He had one dangerous theory, but if he tested it and was wrong, he could lose John. That fear was always with him, but now more than ever he was ready to risk it. He knew, after he almost overdosed in that plane, that he was the one who would have to make the first step. Just not yet, he kept saying to himself.  
The stupid experiment wasn't working, his mind taking him places he wasn't ready for. He abandoned his microscope and glanced at John.   
Tired, cold, work tomorrow deductions crossed his mind immideatly, so he spoke almost without thinking.  
-Take my bed.  
John turned to look at him in suprise, and he held the weight of his look with a blank expression, fighting himself not to blush. He could feel the nerves like a pressure in his stomach when John opened his mouth  
-Where will you sleep? You are too tall to fit in the couch.  
Sherlock's mind toyed with the possibility of sleeping in the same bed, and he dismissed it as ludicrous. He stared at the petri dish, trying to come up with an alternative, but the fantasy had left him blank.  
\- Your bed is big enough for both of us.  
His heart skipped a heartbeat, and he almost forgot how to breathe. Hearing what he was thinking out loud, in John's voice, threw him off.  
His mind was racing, going through possiblities and scenarios, but he new it was pointless. This was it. The moment had comed, and he had to act before it was gone again.   
-Okay -was all he said, staring back at John.  
The pressure in his stomach felt bigger as he watched John get up and walk towards him, uncertain of his intentions.  
John stood up next to him with his arms crossed, and used his best Captain voice.  
-It is my medical opinion that you should get some sleep. You've been depriving yourself for the past three days for this case, and it wasn't a very calm one.  
Sherlock's breathing returned to normal, and the pressure in his stomach dissolved into a warm sensation. He never imagined it would be this easy. His chest was softly aking with anticipation  
-And only a fool argues with his doctor- replied, in his most sweet tone, staring directly into John's deep blue eyes.   
And they stayed like that for a second, looking into the others eyes, without being able to break the connection. Sherlock slowly stood up and faced him without breaking eye contact. He must not be thinking straight, because he moves until their bodies are almost touching. He must not be thinking at all, because his hands are moving, reaching for John's neck, and his hands are already on his shirt, and oh he is not thinking, he is feeling John as they lose themselves into the other and softly close their eyes and softly, their mouths touch.  
And it's magic. He can feel John everywhere, he can touch his jaw, he can taste his lips, he can smell his skin and he can hear him moan softly. Oh, he is more in love that he has ever been.   
It's cold, but the detective and his doctor, standing in the scrubby flat, together as they always were, and they will always be don't feel it. They are feeling love.

**Author's Note:**

> Marylou, this is the first fanfic I've written aal by myself, actually finished and actually published. I wanted to give it to you as a birthday present, and thank you for telling me to try. I wish one day I will be able to give you the handwritted version


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